Sometimes I write emails, letters
Angry, passionate, hurt rantings
About what has been lost and what has been broken
About heartbreaking memories I’d rather keep hidden
I don’t send them.
I don’t share them.
They are deleted and lost to the wind,
Carried away with the stroke of a keyboard
Sometimes I feel better afterward
Like a burden has been lifted from these weak and fragile shoulders
And a small weight has been rolled off my chest
Allowing me to breathe again.
Sometimes I feel worse
Frustrated to acknowledge the the things I feel
Even when they are valid
Even when they are real
My anger doesn’t spark often
It takes a lot to get me to boil over
But when the anger comes
There is no way to move forward until I face it.
It comes in the form of tears
Hot and salty flowing down my cheeks
Unstoppable as the water flowing through a
Broken and crumbling dam.
Sometimes I write letters,
Imploring, begging, seeking missives
Longing for a voice to speak peace
A presence to remind me they’re there
I reread them over and over
Wishing for the things I can only dream
Hopeful but cautious as I scribble words
About the what could have, should have, ached to be.
Words and feelings linked together
As they fight for the right to be heard
To be felt in the depths of my soul
To be acknowledged and honored.
Anger. Fear. Hope. Love. Loss.
Begging. Pleading. Bleeding. Dreaming.
Sometimes I write letters
Secret dreams and public screams
No one will see them
But my heart will know